


An Unforseen Delight

by later_than_the_rabbit



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, John's a good brother, Reader-Insert, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Tumblr Prompt, and is a theif, request, sherlock likes asses, sister reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 09:59:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11712054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/later_than_the_rabbit/pseuds/later_than_the_rabbit
Summary: Sherlock’s desire and plan to see your glorious assets on display takes an unlikely turn of events





	An Unforseen Delight

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr Request: Heyy, what about a Sherlock x Reader in which the reader is John’s sister and she ist visiting the Bakerstreet Boys for the first time? She arrives in a pair of mom fitting/skinny jeans that accentuate her god damn beautiful ass and Sherlock likes seeing her in them. He just steals all the other ones she brought with her and hides them so she is forced to wear the ass accentuating ones for the whole weak.

When John had said that his sister was coming out to Baker Street for a week’s visit, Sherlock had thought nothing of it. Harry must obviously be sobered up otherwise she wouldn’t be coming and John must have been trying to help her along as she makes it through the next week before moving back with Clara, obviously. Not obvious however, was the possibility of a third Watson and that it was in fact John’s second, and youngest sister coming to stay. When you climbed out of the cab in front of 221B late one afternoon, Sherlock had frozen whereas John had ran up to you with the biggest smile Sherlock had seen on his face ever, his arms outstretched for you to step into and be engulfed in a strong bear hug. You were obviously his favourite of the two sisters he had, or the two Sherlock knew about at least, and you were stunning. The afternoon sun shone through your hair, turning its natural hue into a golden sheen and your skin became soft in the light. Your slightly reddened cheeks brought out the iridescent colour of your eyes and your full lips had been curved into the most beautiful smile Sherlock had ever seen. So enraptured by your beauty he was, he didn’t realise John had let you go until you had turned to him, your hand extended ready for him to shake. 

“Hi! I’m Y/N Watson, the prettier Watson. You must be Sherlock. It’s so nice to meet you finally! John’s told me all about you!” Sherlock snapped out of his stupor and shook your hand, his ‘friendly’ smile, as John dubbed it, becoming slightly wider and more genuine at your unusual introduction and shining smile, a smile he vowed to see more often.  
“Likewise. Please, let me get your bag.” He made his way to the back of the cab before you stopped him with a hand on his chest. He hoped you couldn’t feel his heart which had begun to race through his white dress shirt.

“Oh don’t worry about that Sherlock, I didn’t bring much. Hold on a tick.” You turned from him and moved back to the cab, tapping the roof to prompt the driver to pop the boot, which was when Sherlock unconsciously scanned over your body, his eyes being drawn by your well-endowed behind. Squeezed into a pair of tight fitting skinny jeans, your arse was exquisite, even more so when you bent down a little to pick up the bags from the trunk. There was no other word for it Sherlock decided, it curved exquisitely from your back and into your thighs, which met your arse sharply, creating an even more pronounced shape. Your jeans especially complimented your figure, hugging the skin and muscle just so, so that the curves were defined but not altered or hidden greatly.

“Hey Sherlock, are you okay?” John nudged Sherlock’s side as you closed the trunk, reaching up to grasp the lid, your loose fitting tee-shirt riding up to show just a sliver of your slightly tanned skin, and goddamn it if that made your ass appear even more voluminous. He pulled his eyes away from your figure when you disappeared behind the car to pay the cabbie and he shook his head, reprimanding himself inside his mind because he should not be ogling his best friends sister a minute after they had met. That was a bit not good.

“Just fine John. Thinking is all.” 

“Oh so that’s why you were staring into space.” John cocked his eyebrow at Sherlock as he turned to look at him. He couldn’t decipher whether John was serious and didn’t realise Sherlock had been checking out his sister’s arse or whether he was being sarcastic because he had caught him. Either way, Sherlock agreed with a small grunt, neither answering here nor there. You came back around the back of the cab as it drove off, picking up the duffel bag you had brought and flinging it over one shoulder and resting the other around John’s shoulders, struggling slightly as he was taller by a few centimetres. The air had begun to cool as the sun dipped closer to the horizon.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier John. Work didn’t let me go til late.”

“It’s okay Y/N/N. I’m glad you’re here now. Let me show you up.”

“Going to show me this so called bombsite then? God knows you complain about it enough.” You laughed as Sherlock furrowed his brows and looked to John, who had gone red in embarrassment.

“Bombsite? Our home isn’t a bombsite John. It has a system.”

“Yeah, only one you can understand and one that looks like mess to everyone else. This way Y/N. Mrs. Hudson’s out at the moment but I’m sure you’ll see her either later tonight or tomorrow.” John took your bag from you, you protesting slightly before he pretty much wrestled it from you, and he took you by the hand, leading you inside and up the stairs, Sherlock trailing behind, mumbling about the system he had whilst he unconsciously observed your behind once more as he followed you up before he forced himself to look to the ground. 

When he had entered the living room after you and John, John was nowhere to be found but Sherlock could hear him fussing about in the bedroom upstairs, probably making your bed on the trundle he had up there, whilst you stood in the living room with your hands on your hips and your back to him. Your fingers were pale against the dark denim of your jeans, which only made Sherlock look towards your arse again, the globe of it being highlighted by the warm glow of the fire. He snapped his eyes up when you had begun to turn back around to him, your arms dropping to your sides as you saw him and smiled. “I don’t see what John is talking about honestly.”

“Hm? Talking about what?”

“The ‘bombsite’. It’s not that messy and I’m sure I could figure out the system you have with a bit of guidance.” You winked and laughed at Sherlock’s stiffness from your wink. You turned and bent down to shuffle through your belongings, gifting Sherlock with another view of your glorious arse. Sherlock blushed significantly at the sight and at the images that were produced in his mind. He shook his head to rid himself of the pictures and moved to the kitchen, taking a glance at your bag to see what you had in there; a few more tee-shirts, a flannel shirt or two, your toiletries and another pair of jeans along with some sweats and your pyjammas. Sherlock could see the brand of your other pair of jeans and saw that they weren’t the same as the one’s you had on now, and that they were definitely not as accentuating. He had moved into the kitchen and began to prepare the kettle for tea, a plan hatching in his head.

\------------------------------------------

You were in the shower after having had Chinese and a drink or two with Sherlock and John. John was puttering in the kitchen washing up some stray dishes and clearing away some of Sherlock’s more obstructive experiments and Sherlock was alone in the living room. With your duffel bag. He took one last look around to ensure no-one was able to catch him and he plunged down onto his knees next to your bag. He rifled through it carefully and plucked out your two pairs of sweatpants and your other pair of jeans and obscured them from sight by hiding them in his dressing gown. He casually (or as casually as he could with three pairs of pants against his stomach) made his way into his bedroom and shut the door quietly just as you finished showering. He let out a sigh and put the clothing into the bottom of his drawer, happy with how his plan turned out.

As he exited his bedroom, smiling evilly to himself and looking down, he heard you grumbling about in the living room and he heard John’s answering grumble. He looked up as he entered the living room only to stop dead in his tracks and blush furiously at the sight he saw. You were bent down at your duffel once more, searching through it frustrated, your ass perfectly on display clad in nothing but a pair of navy lace briefs. Sherlock felt his heart race and pound against his chest as you called out to John again, unaware of the dilemma Sherlock was in. He couldn’t reveal himself because you would know that he saw you in your undies and he couldn’t stay there and look at you because this was really not good, coupled with the extremely not good bit of hiding your pants. He also couldn’t back away because he just couldn’t stop watching you wiggling around as you searched your bag. The conversation that you were having with John finally started to make sense in his head and his blush reddened further as he realised what you were saying. “John I swear to God where are they?”

“I don’t know!”

“Well you must’ve taken them?”

“Why would I take your pyjamma pants, and your sweats and even your jeans?” Sherlock’s plan was not going to plan at all. Where were your pyjamma pants? He didn’t take them. Did he? He had planned to just take the pants you needed during the day so that it would look like you had just forgotten. He pulled his eyes away from your barely covered flesh and quietly, yet quickly, returned to his room and opened his drawer again, pulling out your clothing and looking through it with speed, stopping when he found the garment you were looking for; your pyjamma pants. He closed his eyes and hanged his head in frustration. How could he have been so stupid! He looked around without seeing anything, trying to come up with a solution without outing himself when he heard a throat being cleared from behind him. He stilled and his fiery face turned into an inferno as he turned ever so slowly to see your pantless, smirking figure in the doorway.

\------------------------------------------

“Well, well, well, Sherly. What do we have here?” You stalked towards him with your arms crossed in front of your chest. You may or may not have been swaying your hips a little more than normal as you came to stand in front of him as he kneeled before you, surrounded by your ‘missing’ pants, the pyjammas you had been searching for clasped between his slightly trembling hands. The poor thing couldn’t look you in the eye and the stoic and emotionless sociopath that John had described to you was nowhere to be seen, replaced by the embarrassed man at your feet. You chuckled a little and crouched in front of him, your face in front of his and your eyes the only place he could see without staring blankly at the floor, which he chose rather than facing you. “You know, you could have just asked me Sherl.” He looked into your eyes then, his brows furrowed enough so a little crease appeared in confusion. 

“Asked? Wha-”

“What, you think this is the first time someone had stolen my pants? The first time one of John’s mates have ogled me blatantly?” He gaped at you as you stood again and instead sat on his bed, crossing your legs one over the other, pronouncing your ass even more. “You should’ve seen John when we were teenagers. We went camping one weekend, just the two of us and another group of boys were at the same site. They stole all of my pants besides the denim shorts I owned. The too small shorts I might add. I’m not stupid, I have a great asset and I know how to flaunt it, and I know how it affects certain people. And I know how to deal with unwanted attention. Those boys never did imagine little ol’ me stealing their tents whilst they fished.” You smiled at the memory and looked down to Sherlock, who was looking positively terrified and awed by you simultaneously. You giggled and pointed at him, waggling your finger playfully. “I saw you downstairs at the cab by the way.” You giggled as his eyes widened comically.

“You-you saw me? Why didn’t you say anything? I’m so sorry I-” Sherlock was cut off by your boisterous laughter. He had stood and was pacing the room as he pulled his hair and worried about what was going to happen. He stopped when you huffed away the laughter and waved your hand about the air.

“I’m not mad Sherlock. Didn’t you hear what I said?”

“You said you stole their tents because they took your pants. Oh God you're going to steal something of mine aren’t you.” You giggled and got off the bed, reaching for your pyjamma pants and slipping them on.

“No Sherl I’m not. I only did that because it was unwanted attention, like I had already mentioned.”

“You mean,” Sherlock had his hands clasped in front of him, wringing them absent-mindedly as his cheeks flushed again as he realised what you were saying. “It’s not unwanted. My attention that is.” You shook your head and began to head out of the room, your arms full of the stolen clothing. 

“No not really. I thought it was... endearing. Why don’t we head out for coffee tomorrow, just you and me yeah? I’ll even wear the jeans you like so much.” With that, you winked and returned to the living room. Sherlock stood stock-still in the middle of his room, processing what had just happened. You had sat back down in the living room with a cup of tea and had drunk plenty of it when you heard Sherlock’s now heavy footsteps rush into the room. You looked up at him calmly as he opened and closed his mouth in an attempt to form words.

“You-you want to- to go out with… me?” You drained your tea and set it aside, standing toe to toe with Sherlock as you replied.

“Well yes. I think it would be appropriate and, well, nice Sherlock. You’re not so bad yourself you know. I’ll see you in the morning.” You kissed his cheek and made your way into John’s room where your makeshift bed awaited you. Sherlock smiled as you left and when he heard the door shut, he reached up and cupped the cheek you had kissed.

“I’d watch out if I were you.” Sherlock straightened his back and lowered his hand quickly as he heard John’s voice come from the kitchen, where he had been watching the scene play out. “She may say she likes you, but don’t think she’ll forget what you did.” Sherlock turned and saw John leaning on the door frame with a knowing smirk on his face. Sherlock nodded, not sure what to make of the statement, and headed into his bedroom, leaving John to chuckle to himself as he secured the flat and made his way upstairs.

The next day, you were dressed in your ass defining jeans and a tight fitting shirt whereas Sherlock was clad in only his dress pants and socks, unable to find any of his shirts anywhere. They were all slightly too small for him anyway, not that you were complaining at all, as you watched a shirtless Sherlock run frantically about the flat, his shirts tucked safely away under your bed upstairs.


End file.
